Page 58 of Plotting Summer

Tristan’s gaze shifts back and forth between my eyes. “First off, I wasn’t taking you home to end our arrangement. I was taking you home in an attempt to be helpful. Honestly, it was an excuse to spend an entire day with you. But I can now see where the confusion came in.” His fingertips brush down my left arm, leaving a trail of pleasure behind. “And as for the villa, I guess you’re not the only one misinterpreting the other person’s motives. I feel like every time I tried to cross the line of friendship we’d established, I made you nervous.”

“I was nervous, but not in a bad way.”

“My chat with Heath this morning clarified some of that for me. In hindsight, the smart thing to do would have been to simply ask you instead of overanalyzing each one of your reactions. But I felt like it was a conversation we needed to have in private, and then we were alone in the room together after the spa”—he swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips—“I really didn’t want you to think I brought you to The Belacourt for … well, for anything other than our outing. So honestly, it was probably best we waited until now.”

My smile is on the excessive side of big. “I guess that answers for the platonic side hug you gave me before fleeing.”

“It was a protective measure. I knew I had to get out of there quick or I wouldn’t be able to resist kissing you for another moment. And I really didn’t want to scare you away. But now …” His hand comes to my neck, his thumb grazing my jaw, and I know exactly what is about to happen. I’ve written moments just like this many times—well, maybe not just like this because the butterflies I get when I write a kiss scene are not even comparable to the ones exploding through the whole of my body currently—but I’m well aware of what he’s about to do. And I’m here for it.

Except I shouldn’t be. Not when he doesn’t know the truth. But if I tell him, there will never be a kiss. And didn’t I decide, when I was young, that I’ll die a happier woman having kissed Tristan Palmer? I still stand by that.

His lips graze mine, and the minty smell of him intoxicates me, but not enough to dull my conscience. No matter how much I want this. Stupid conscience. I step back. “I can’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, I thought …” His words trail off, a look of complete and utter confusion on his face.

“No. It’s not you.” I pull in a deep breath, longing to be back in his arms. But there’s too much to say. Too much that will change everything. “I have to tell you something.”

He stands an arm length away, waiting, but I can’t figure out how to say what needs to be said. For all my fretting and anxiety about this moment, I should have done a better job at planning out how to go about actually telling him. “Now that I have my keys, I’m going to head back to Naples tomorrow. I have some editing I need to do.” A slight trembling has started in my body, and I clasp my hands together to keep Tristan from noticing. “For a book I’m writing.” There. That wasn’t so hard. A perfect lead-in to the truth bomb I’m about to drop on him. My stomach churns.

He gives a timid smile. “Are you going to publish it?”

“I am. It actually already has a release date and everything.”

Tristan’s head pulls back slightly and there are conflicting emotions in his expression. “That’s incredible. Is that what you needed to tell me?”

“No. Well, kind of.” I drop my gaze to the ground in front of me. I honestly feel like I’m going to be sick. I am Sunny Palmer. I can do this. But before I can get the words out, a familiar heaviness moves into my chest and tears prick my eyes. No! I refuse to let him witness another floodgate cry session. With the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on today, it isn’t a surprise I’d be reeling, but I need to calm myself. I shut my eyes and draw in a deep breath. I can do this. I have to do this. “I’m Sunny Palmer,” I blurt, ripping the bandaid right off.

Tristan gives an uncertain laugh like he’s not sure why I’d joke about that. Then he takes in my expression and his smile fades. “Are you serious?”

I nod. “Only Jane and Tala know.”

“Wait. You’re Sunny Palmer? As in the best-selling author we were talking about at the pool?”

Again, I nod.

He sits there a minute as if waiting for me to shout ‘gotcha’ but when I don’t, he smiles. Smiles! He obviously didn’t pick up on the whole theft of his name situation in the shocking reveal. “That’s incredible!” He pauses, his gaze turning thoughtful, and I’m confident the connection has been made. “But why has that kept you away from Sunset Harbor?”

“I’m Sunny … Palmer,” I say, accentuating Tristan’s last name.

Suddenly there’s recognition in his eyes. “You used our last name for your pen name?”

“Your last name,” I clarify. “And Sunny comes from⁠—”

“Capri Sun,” he says, finishing for me. Contrary to the disbelief I think will follow this admission, his smile widens. “Heath really undersold the level of your crush. And honestly, so did you.” He chuckles to himself. “I might have a little thing for you,” he repeats my own words back to me. “You used my name for your pen name. That doesn’t sound little.”

“Fine,” I huff. “It was a huge, massive crush. Are you happy?”

The way his whole face is lit with sheer and unadulterated amusement, he doesn’t need to answer. “So why are you telling me this now? Haven’t you been publishing under that name for years?”

I shift on my feet. “Because that’s not all.”

“Oh, there’s more?” He looks far too delighted, and I have to keep reminding myself that I should be relieved he isn’t freaking out.

“My first book—now a New York Times Best Seller and the fan favorite—may have loosely been based off of a fictional love story”—I swallow—“between us.”

Tristan crosses his arms in front of him and narrows his eyes. “How loosely are we talking?”

I shrug and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “The main characters are neighbors, their physical descriptions resemble ours, and their names are … somewhat similar.” That is definitely a gross understatement, but it seems like a good place to start. “But they’re older than we were at the time. Recently home from college, actually.”